<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>On road no inline state time by gummyconcrete (orphan_account)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23170540">On road no inline state time</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/gummyconcrete'>gummyconcrete (orphan_account)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-War, Pre-War, Yamanaka Ino-centric, just some gals being pals, the docs file is: naruto should stop attacking me at 3am with lesbians</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:00:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23170540</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/gummyconcrete</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ino is tired.</p><p>The TV is blearing out Steinfield of all things, the stupid goddamn theme song grating on her ears as the piano’s keys get louder. </p><p>And. God, she’s so fucking <i>tired.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Haruno Sakura/Yamanaka Ino</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>On road no inline state time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>u ever be attacked by anons with the Best Lesbian Prompts when ur supposed to be studying? yeah, that. i hate that</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>(froyo by Hans. ft Clairo &amp; Aso)</p><p><em>holding you close breathing you in</em>—</p><p>
  <b>now</b>
</p><p>Ino is tired.</p><p>The TV is blearing out Steinfield of all things, the stupid goddamn theme song grating on her ears as the piano’s keys get louder. </p><p> And. God, she’s so fucking <em> tired </em>. </p><p>She takes a swing of liquor, relishing the burn at the back of her throat, the pungent smell, and rubs at her sore eyes. Steinfield begins, with crackling and incessant laugh tracks and less than funny jokes.</p><p>She’s just so, so tired.</p><p>
  <b>back then</b>
</p><p>War.</p><p>Ino has only read of wars in textbooks, as events encased in dates and concrete events and treaties and arms and dispatched army battalions and — well, none of them did justice to the reality. </p><p>And the reality? Was this.</p><p>Death, death and death. </p><p>It’s a rush, a rush of blacks and greys and then the streak of blood and then more blurs of black and grey. It’s a stupid punch of adrenaline in one’s belly, the urge to get up, over and over, and cast <em> jutsu </em> over <em> jutsu </em> and perform kick after punch after hook.</p><p>
  <b>a little after back then</b>
</p><p>She finds out that her father is dead and then everything around her is dulled. Not even the red makes any sense to her.</p><p>She falls to the floor, knees buckling and the world just fucking fading away to nothingness, colours bleaching out and her eyes shutting and tears falling down and the sound of curses shrieked to the skies.</p><p>Shikamaru is next to her and he doesn’t cry. Because <em> shinobi </em>, ninjas just don’t cry. But she’s on the ground punching the soil and taking handfuls of dirt and digging her nails into the blood-soaked battlegrounds.</p><p>
  <b>way before back then</b>
</p><p>There’s her and Sakura and there’s flowers.</p><p>Swaying in the breeze, there’s a thousand flowers, full of colours and each of their own fragrance and meanings and significance.</p><p>And she looks at Sakura. Pink hair and green eyes and porcelain skin and smiles that were way too bright and gaped teeth. There’s a ribbon in her hair.</p><p>
  <b>a different time, still back then</b>
</p><p>The sky is blushing pink and blue and red. </p><p>Ino laces her fingers through Sakura’s hands and neither of them talk about it.</p><p>
  <b>a little after the second back then with girls holding hands</b>
</p><p>Sakura’s eating her favourite <em> Anko </em> dumplings, and her lips glisten with syrup and sugar. </p><p>She bites into her desert, tips her head back, smacks her lips, lets out an airy <em> aaaahhhhhh </em>, and then smiles at Ino.</p><p>Ino considers that, studies the curve of Sakura’s lips. </p><p>Then she kisses her.</p><p>
  <b>a few days after the kiss</b>
</p><p>Ino thinks that Sakura’s perfect.</p><p>Because she’s the one with the ugliest laugh and the stupidest jokes and the broadest smiles and the hugs that are a bit too tight and a shade of hair which is an eyesore.</p><p>But she’s the one that Ino loves, because Sakura is cherry blossom petals billowing away in the spring winds, she’s the pink of a little girl’s dreams and she’s the red of apples and cherries and she’s the feeling of warmth in the first day of summer vacation.</p><p>
  <b>the first back then in the war with death and gore</b>
</p><p>The colours are gone, dead. </p><p>
  <b>now</b>
</p><p>Ino dials Sakura’s number, and probably gets it right on the third time because she really can’t see clearly but who was counting anyway.</p><p>“Ino?” Sakura’s voice comes.</p><p>Ino sighs at the sound of her angel’s voice. </p><p>“Ino,” Sakura repeats, but the tone is far different. She’s almost admonishing but very gently, like the first breeze of autumn.</p><p>“Mmm,” Ino hums, and swings back her bottle and swallows more liquor before saying. “M so f’ckin done. And, I jus, ugh. I wanna get outta here.”</p><p>“Are you drunk?”</p><p>“No. Yes.”</p><p>“Where are you?”</p><p>“Home,” Ino says.</p><p>There’s a bit of a pause, the rustle of cloth, static. “Pack your bags, I’ll be there in five.”</p><p>
  <b>a while after now</b>
</p><p>They walk through the large, red <em> A </em> and <em> N </em> gates of Konoha. Ino’s half asleep, just barely able to make coherent thoughts through her pounding hangover. </p><p>“So where do you wanna go?” Sakura asks, as she takes Ino’s bags.</p><p>“Anywhere,” Ino says, pinching the middle of her eyebrows to stop the throb behind there. “With you.”</p><p>Sakura kisses her on the cheeks, and says, "Fucking sap, that's what you are."</p><p>Ino glares, but is blinded with an overwhelming stock of colours: bubblegem reds, sugar apple reds and highlighter greens.</p><p>But the colours aren't that blinding only because of her hangover. That's because it's what Sakura is: a whirlwind of colours, the smell of Hubba Bubba, the reds of paper laterns, the feeling of grass between her toes, the feeling of threading hands through hair, the burn of skin against skin, the bite of antibacterial, the colours that the skies turned at dusk, the syrup of <em>dango</em>, the bright pink of fairy floss at Summer Festivals, and—</p><p>Well, all the colours are just <em>alive</em>, when it comes to Sakura.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>BITCH. BITCH. I GOT AN A ON SCIENCE. AND YEAH, I GOT A GIRLFRIEND. AM I LIVING THE DREAM OR WHHATTT</p><p> </p><p>also please comment :)) if u liked these two gals being pals :)))</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>